


What Once Was

by shorts_by_mars



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Cheating, Divorced couple working in the same building, Exes, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Non-Linear Narrative, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut, Vaginal Sex, adult, marriage issues, mentions of smoking, no y/n, old loves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:42:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 9,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27715610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shorts_by_mars/pseuds/shorts_by_mars
Summary: To most of the Survey Corps, you were the chief veterinarian. To Erwin Smith, you were his ex-wife.
Relationships: Erwin Smith & Reader, Erwin Smith/Reader
Comments: 88
Kudos: 276





	1. Chapter 1

Eren’s eyes narrow at Erwin Smith, who is currently sitting at the end of the table and trying to hold back a chuckle at something you’d said. You are sitting a few seats away from him but clearly participating in the same conversation. Eren’s suspicious gaze flits to you, then back to Erwin. Eren leans over the table towards Hange. Hoping the din of the mess hall will drown out his voice, he dares to ask, “Hey. Do they know each other?”

“Huh?” Hange looks up from her cream potato soup and follows Eren’s gaze. Just then, as a sly, knowing smile slithers onto her face. “Yeah. They’re exes.”

Eren’s eyes widen so much that they nearly bulge out of his head. “Like, ex-boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Not just,” Hange says through a conspiratorial giggle. “Ex-husband and wife.”

“ _Huh?!_ ” Eren exclaims before Hange claps a hand over his mouth, shushing him.

“They don’t really talk about it. But you can feel that they’re familiar, eh?”

“Sure.” Eren scratches the back of his neck as he ruminates over the concept. “But they’re so different from each other. The Commander is so stern and serious, and the Chief Vet is so lively.”

“You know what they say about opposites,” Hange grins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea for this took root in my mind and wouldn't leave until I wrote it out. I slammed out the first 10k words in three hours. Send help.
> 
> Also, just a quick reminder that this will be non-sequential--partly because I like the narrative style, partly because I'm writing as I go. I hope you don't mind. (´ω｀*) If it ever gets confusing at any point though, please let me know and I will be more than happy to add a legend indicating the chapter's place in the timeline, or something to that effect.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Eren can't help his curiosity, finding himself so inexplicably engrossed in your and Erwin’s failed love story. As such, he tracks you down and (unsurprisingly) finds you in the stables, checking on the horses’ joints. You're sitting on a stool and gently flexing and relaxing a brown stallion’s front leg, your back to him. The horse chews on some hay, unbothered by you. Eren approaches and—without announcing himself (maybe forgetting to, in his excitement and haste)—asks, “Do you still love him?”

Your head whips around almost guiltily, as if you’ve been caught in the middle of a crime. “I’m sorry?” you ask through a smile that’s a little too wide.

Eren is not deterred. “Do you still love him?”

So you did hear that correctly. “Love whom, Eren?”

“You know,” Eren says completely seriously. “Commander Smith.”

Your expression softens; no point in playing dumb now. “Who told you?”

“Captain Hange.”

“Of course she spilled.” You roll your eyes. “That pain in the ass can’t keep her mouth shut to save her life.” You cross your arms dramatically, but your tone is fond. You hum, still pretending to be bothered. After a while, you say, “Yes, I suppose I do. You never really completely stop loving someone, you know.”

Eren seems surprised. “So why'd you break up?”

“Mm. We weren’t good for each other.” You turn back towards the horse, now examining the hoof. “That’s all.”

“You say ‘weren’t’. So are you good for each other now?”

 _God, this kid is nosy._ You blink. So you did say that. That was obviously the less-pragmatic side of you talking because it would never work; both you and Erwin know that. ”’ _Aren’t_ ’,” you correct yourself. “ _Aren’t_.”


	3. Chapter 3

Once grievances are aired and water is under the bridge, you and Erwin actually eventually manage to settle into a comfortable friendship. 

_Shortly after_ the divorce is a different story entirely. There were... growing pains, to say the least.

You had fully intended to drift away from Erwin and simply treat him as your Commander. To you, that would be easier and less painful. Frustratingly, Erwin had other ideas and was set on remaining friends even after the split. You frown—what a masochist. You are lost in this thought as you wait in the dinner line, tapping your fingers mindlessly on the cafeteria tray.

“Anything to drink?” the woman on the other side of the counter asks.

“Tea, please. Earl Grey, if you have any, with milk and sugar.”

Levi put you on the stuff. He's been inviting you to have tea more often now, since sensing your divorce dejection. He, of course, did it all with a front of hesitance and irritation but an invite was still an invite. It took you a while to come around to the ‘smelly leaf water’ as you’d called it, but it wasn’t too bad, actually—especially after you add milk and sugar. Tea was new for you; you had only drunk coffee before because, well, that’s what Erwin drank.

You shakily deposit the steaming cup of tea onto your tray, careful not to spill any. You start a little when Erwin’s voice addresses you from your right. You turn to face him just as he sidles up to you, not too close but close enough that you can feel his body heat.

“Tea? That’s unlike you.”

“Leave me alone.” 

It’s Sunday so there’s dessert, and today it’s fruit cups. You pluck one from the counter. It’s a sad fruit cup—just diced apples and a single grape. You sigh; guess the budget is tighter than Erwin is letting on.

“And for you, Commander?” the woman asks sweetly as she addresses Erwin with a bright smile. Erwin flashes one in return, disarming in its dazzle. You squint and turn away; it’s almost blinding. 

“Coffee, please. Black.”

“Right away, sir.”

You shuffle down the line, leaving Erwin to wait for his coffee. You, however, stall behind a hold up in the line; someone can’t decide what entrée they want. You curse inwardly. You’d only managed to put three feet between yourself and Erwin.

The wafting scent of coffee heralds his invasion of your personal space yet again. You look down; he now also has a fruit cup on his tray, but it’s bigger and there’s a much more impressive array of fruits inside. _Stupid Commander with his stupid special treatment._ It even has strawberries in it—your favourite.

“Want to trade fruit cups?” he asks without looking at you. “Mine has strawberries in it.”

He always did seem to be able to read your mind; not that you would give him the satisfaction of knowing that, though. “So?”

“It’s your favourite.”

You grit your teeth. “Don’t you think I know that?”

“So do you want to?”

“I don’t!” you snap. “Would you offer your food to a regular soldier? Stop treating me like I’m different from everybody else.”

“But you are different.” Erwin exhales through his nose. “To me.”

“No, I’m not,” you say, lowering your voice. “Not anymore. I’m just your chief vet now. Nothing more, nothing less. I don’t want special treatment. So cut it out.” You scowl. “It’s easier this way.”

Erwin examines you from the corner of his eye. You were so unlike yourself these days, more irritable and angry, ever since the divorce was finalized two weeks ago. Did you regret it?

Did he?

The cook’s gruff voice pulls him from his reverie. “Entrée, miss? We’ve got chicken or beef,” the cook asks you, completely oblivious to the tension. Well, one-sided tension. Erwin is completely at ease, and even has the gall to look _bored_ , while conversing with you.

“The chicken. Please.” A plate of mashed potato and boiled chicken then slides onto your tray. "The chicken" looks like white lumps floating in a clear oily broth, with a sliver of ginger for flavour. The mashed potato looks more grey than yellow, and is definitely cold. It only digs you further into your pit of self-inflicted misery. You push off from the counter and trudge away. “Thanks.”

Erwin says your name. You don’t even turn around when you say, “Keep your fruit cup.”


	4. Chapter 4

Erwin cheated on you a lot over the course of your marriage. As commander of the Survey Corps, he would often spend nights away inside Sina for meetings with the nation’s other top-ranking dignitaries. He would say that was all he did but he undoubtedly indulged in the luxuries he was deprived of in Trost, murmuring about playing people like chess pieces over effervescent spirits and scantily-clad women. You knew this because he would often come home with a headache, lipstick smeared on his shirt collar and smelling of expensive perfume.

You fought about it a lot, at first. He would always deny it, daring to lie to you with a straight face. You threw every emotion you knew at him: fury, scorn, sadness, disgust—but Erwin would only return one: apathy. A complete and utter lack of remorse.

You’re standing in his office, confronting him after his return from Stohess. He was supposed to be back at 4—it’s well past midnight now and you can only _imagine_ what he got wrapped up in, judging by how he smells of roses and sweet peas. You wipe angrily at your face with your sleeve—it scratches, painful and rough, against your raw, heated skin. 

“Are you even going to _apologize_ to me?!”

“I learned very early on to never apologize for my actions,” Erwin replies over his steepled fingers. “A commander must never apologize. It’s part of the job description. You know that.”

“So you’re not going to apologize to me,” you rasp, not trusting your voice not to wobble. You throw your hands up in the air and slump with a defeated sigh. You curse at how weak you must look—the very image of a woman scorned. “Don’t you at least _regret_ cheating on your wife?”

“A commander cannot afford to _regret_ any decisions he makes, either,” he quips. “Also part of the job description.”

“Can you stop being Commander fucking Smith for two goddamn seconds and just be _my husband_ , please?!”

“I can’t. _Commander Smith_ needed to procure sensitive information about the new tax distribution plan and _Commander Smith_ decided that sleeping with Lady Brevarde would be the best way to do so.” He holds up the Manila folder sitting on his desk and shakes it in the air. “And it was.”

“Ah yes, and so that absolutely excuses you from cheating on your wife. Is that it?” you exclaim, rapidly spiralling into hysterics. Your tone is absolute vitriol.

“How many times do I have to tell you that it didn’t _mean_ anything to me?” Erwin says tiredly, pinching his nose bridge. “It was a simple business transaction.”

“It doesn’t matter! It’s still a breach of trust!”

“I told you when we got married that I can’t always tell you everything. We agreed on those terms.”

“' _Terms?_ ’” you mock, reeling back as if you've been slapped. Oh no, you’re screaming now and Erwin is doing nothing to console you... “God Erwin, it’s marriage, not some trade deal!”

“We exchanged vows and promises. It is, in its very nature, a trade deal.”

“You _ass!_ ” You refuse to let any more tears fall so you dig your knuckles into your eye sockets to stave them off. Your throat is tight; it hurts to talk. “I can’t believe you...”

“Believe it,” he says simply before depositing the Manila folder into a drawer and locking it. “Now, shall we go to bed?”

Your vision flashes red with renewed rage. The audacity of this man! “I’m sleeping in the stable,” you spit with vehemence. “Since apparently you have no room in your bed for your own wife!”

Erwin pushes away from his desk and rounds it to stand before you. He clicks his tongue as he grabs your chin, tilting it upward. “I think you misapprehend me.” His eyes swirl with something dangerous. “I didn’t give you a choice.” Your fists ball then; he notices. “Try it. I dare you.”

He then squeezes your chin so tightly it’s uncomfortable, almost painful. “Erwin—“

“To bed. Now. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a Spotify playlist for this fic because I can't like things in a chill way. You can check it out by following the link below, or looking up "What Once Was" under Playlists: 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6sC3OP1Wfb7p08qcjtXgjB?si=PksT0g47QlKRQPbCoh97Rg
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! ଘ(੭ˊ꒳ˋ)੭✧


	5. Chapter 5

Petra’s voice wavers she calls your name from behind you. You turn, a little too quickly, and wince when your neck muscles burn in protest. Petra catches up to you and worries her lower lip.

Even though there's no one around, her voice is barely above a whisper when she says, “Is... Is everything okay? With the Commander?”

“Yes, everything is fine.”

“Is it really?” Her hand comes up to ghost along your neck; despite your best efforts, mottled, finger-like bruises still manage to peek out from the top of your high-necked shirt. “Or did _he_ just tell you to say that?”

He did, but you wouldn’t tell Petra that. The bruises aren’t from anything malicious, he just… gets carried away during sex sometimes. “Everything is fine,” you reassure her, resting a hand on her shoulder. “He can be... a little heavy-handed, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.”

With your slight admission, one of the threads holding your marriage together pulls tight and snaps.

Petra doesn’t push further but is clearly unconvinced still. “Okay. Well, if there are any problems, let me know and Captain Levi will definitely straighten him out—“

“Oh, no need to get him involved,” you say quickly, raising your hands. “Can this stay between us? Please?”

Petra sighs, her eyes shimmering pools of sympathy and grief for you. “Okay. Just between us.”


	6. Chapter 6

The divorce would’ve been infinitely easier if you never had to see Erwin Smith again.

It would've been so much easier if he’d been someone you met one night at a pub, or someone your parents introduced to you; a Joe Schmoe with no mutual friends who would just fade from your life and into obscurity.

But no, your ex-husband is technically _your boss_ and **all** your friends are mutual, so avoiding him is a near-impossible feat.

The first couple weeks are hard.

For a multitude of reasons—including isolating yourself from your friends and madly throwing yourself into work—but the foremost one being that you left your favourite sweater in Erwin’s closet. 

It’s only a little after 7pm and he should still be at dinner, so that’s when you decide to try and sneak into the Commander's quarters. You try to be as inconspicuous as possible as you snake through the hallways, and don’t make a sound when you slither past the door and into the room you shared with Erwin for five years. 

Thankfully, he’s not in. It’s dark inside so you have to rely mostly on touch. You walk towards the wardrobe with light steps and pull the oaken doors open. They creak slightly and you cringe, but it doesn’t seem like anyone heard so maybe you’re still safe—

The room suddenly illuminates with candlelight from the doorway. You gasp. 

“Thought you’d had just about enough of me,” Erwin says mirthlessly, leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. “Or are you back for more?”

You jump and spin, face a million shades of scarlet. Why is he back so early?! “I forgot… one of my sweaters. In here.” Your voice is small. You wouldn’t normally be so flustered, but he _did_ just catch you sneaking into his room, never mind that it used to be your room, too.

“Well, get it and go,” Erwin intones, shrugging off his jacket as he walks into the room. He sits on his desk chair with a tired exhale. “I want to get ready for bed.” He pulls off his boots, standing them beside his desk.

You squeak and dive further into the wardrobe, pushing clothing aside frantically. Your ex-husband sleeps in nothing but his boxers and you definitely did _not_ want to stick around for the strip show, not after everything—

“If you think I’m going to alter my evening plans to accommodate this _intrusion_ of yours, you’re mistaken. You have ten seconds to find it. _Ten_.” You hear the jingle of belts unbuckling. “ _Nine_.”

“Wait—!” you cry, diving further into the closet and digging with all your might. Why does Erwin have so much clothing? He wears a uniform like ninety percent of the time!

“ _Eight. Seven._ ” 

All around you is a blur of neutrals and earth tones, and the overwhelming smell of _him._ You beg for more time, your sweater nowhere in sight.

“ _Six._ ” The belts hit the floor with a _thud_ of the leather and chime of the buckles. 

You drop to your knees and rifle through the pile of dirty laundry at the bottom of the wardrobe. You see socks, slacks, and wrinkled dress shirts, but no sign of your sweater.

“ _Five._ ” You hear the clink of his bolo tie landing in his trinket dish, and then rustling as he undoes the buttons of his shirt.

With a cry, you stretch to stand on your tip-toes and check the top shelves. You can’t see so you just feel with your hands, frisking for the feeling of chunky knit—

“ _Four._ ” Your fingers ghost over cotton, linen, cashmere, and silk and you start to lose hope. Maybe it got lost in the wash. Maybe it isn’t in here at all. 

“ _Three._ ” The shirt hits the floor. You shriek.

You feel it then—the distinctive pattern of the knit and the soft scratch of wool blend. With a triumphant cry, you pull and your beloved sweater falls into your arms in a heap.

“ _Two._ ”

You slam the wardrobe shut and dash out of the door, throwing a quick “thanks!” over your shoulder as you go. The door swings closed behind you. He hears you take off down the hallway, your footsteps fading until they’re out of earshot. After all that commotion, the room is now eerily silent.

Erwin chuckles to himself, mildly entertained by your antics. 

“ _One,_ ” he says to the empty room.


	7. Chapter 7

The loneliness is starting to eat away at you. When you lost your husband, you collaterally lost your friends because they’re all friends of his, too. Avoiding one meant avoiding them all.

You still have your fellow veterinarians, and they’re all lovely, but they’re still your subordinates at the end of the day so it’s just not the same.

You resign to the idea of spending yet another Friday night holed up in your room doing nothing but feeling sorry for yourself (as well as feeling yourself, but that always comes later in the night), which is why you nearly breathe a sigh of relief when you hear Hange’s voice call to you just as you’re returning to the stable on horseback.

Hange jogs towards you, waving frantically. and you steer your mare, Ignia, in her direction. “Hange?” you ask. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, yes,” she breathes, coming up next to you. She pats Ignia’s mane. “I was just… looking for you.” She looks up at you meaningfully, face drawn into a pleading pout. “I miss you. We all do. Did you want to join us for dinner?”

You hum a noncommittal sound. “Hmm, maybe. I _am_ free tonight.” You dismount Ignia and land in front of Hange, who wastes no time and claps her hands around yours. She’s practically radiating with excitement and you hate to rain on her parade when you ask her the dreaded question; “Will _he_ be there?”

She nods smally. “I mean, well, ye—”

“Oh sorry,” you interrupt, tone icy. “I suddenly have plans.”

“Come _on_ ,” Hange whines, squeezing your hands and bowing over at the waist, hiding her face. “We haven’t seen you in, like, four weeks and—!” She hiccups and you curse inwardly.

“Hanj, don’t you dare start crying. You know I can’t say no to you when you—”

“That’s the _poooooint!_ ” she yowls, raising her head—and sure enough, she has tears streaming from her eyes and snot dripping from her nose. It would be comical, almost funny, if it wasn’t a metaphorical gun to your head. This is her secret weapon against you and she _knows_ it.

“You can’t avoid him forever!” She lurches forward, now just inches from your face. “What if you need to drop something off? What if Erwin’s horse gets sick?” She sticks out her trembling lower lip. “I just want my friends back.”

You turn your head, mouth pulled into a lopsided frown. “Rah! Alright, fine.” You glower at her. “But you’re buying me as much booze as I need to stand being in his presence.”

Hange explodes into shouts of victory and tackles you into a hug. “I’ll buy you the whole lot!”

______________________________

The first time Erwin sees you, _really_ sees you, after the divorce, it’s four weeks later. 

As it turns out, you are very good at avoiding him when you intend on it. He’d only seen you in passing or from a distance since the split, and you made a point to not meet his eye every time.

Despite his best intentions to _not_ , he watches you as you take a seat beside Hange further down the table. She slides a pannikin of mead in front of you, which you take and slam back without missing a beat, then yell for another. _Ah,_ he thinks, _that must be why you agreed to come._

It seems that you’re making a point to never look his way, which is understandable and to be expected. However, he does want to return to being on good terms with you _at some point_ in time, but that’s the extent of his self-honesty. He refuses to admit to himself that he misses you, or feels guilty for what he did. After all, that would not change anything now.

But something _very close_ to guilt blossoms in his chest when he notices a vibrancy in you that wasn’t there when you were with him. There's a light in your eyes now, and a peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hardest part of writing this so far has been deciding on a name for MC's horse. I changed it like four times, and then came up with Ignia pretty much accidentally. Out of the four I tried, it's the one I'm most satisfied with.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

“Commander. Here are the documents from Captain Hange you requested.”

Erwin doesn’t look up from his work and just points down to his desk wordlessly. It takes all your willpower to not roll your eyes as you march up to the desk to drop the stack onto it. The paper hits the wood with a resounding _plap_. 

“Anything else you need, _sir?_ ” Your tone is unabashedly impertinent. 

He could punish you for insolence but that would be counterproductive to his ‘Get my Ex-Wife to Talk to Me Again’ initiative, so he decides against it. No use making his work any harder for himself. 

“That is all. Thank you.” He tacks on your first name at the end in an attempt at familiarity, but it’s deflected. 

“I’d appreciate it if you called me by my title, Commander.”

So much for that. 

“Very well. You are dismissed, _Chief_.” His tone is now just as impertinent as yours. 

You salute—it’s a perfect and exaggerated and petty salute—and then spin on your heel to head towards the closed door. You reach for the handle and move to turn it—

It’s stuck. 

You jerk it, twisting it back and forth, but the knob doesn’t budge. You curse and hear the scrape of Erwin’s chair against the floor.

“What’s the matter?”

You feel his presence advance towards you and sidestep just as he comes upon the door, trying the handle for himself. Stuck, too. 

“It must be jammed or something,” he frowns, pushing against the door with his shoulder. The heavy wooden door does not yield to even him, tall and strong as he is. “Christ.” He runs his hand through his hair, exasperated. He knocks on the door. “Anybody out there?”

No answer. In fact, there doesn’t seem to be any activity at all. It is eerily quiet on the other side.

He tries again, now pounding on the door. “Hello?” 

No answer. He walks back toward his desk, opening and closing drawers, looking for a key. As luck would have it, it would seem his master key is gone too. 

“What the hell is going on?” he mutters. “This better not be some sort of coup.”

“A coup?” you say before even realizing. “I don’t think anyone would voluntarily take over the Survey Corps. Well, except you, sir.”

Erwin chuckles. “Right.”

You try the door again for a few more minutes but to no avail, and the nightmare of being trapped in a room with your ex-husband is becoming more and more of a reality by the second. 

“The most we can do now is wait for someone to come by,” Erwin sighs, returning to his seat. He gestures to the chair across his desk. “Feel free to make yourself comfortable in the meantime.”

“I’m fine standing.”

He sighs. “We don’t know how long it’s going to be. Stop being stubborn and have a seat.”

You relent, approaching slowly and apprehensively and a bit like a deer would. 

He gives you a tired look. “I’m not going to bite you.”

You eye him dubiously and slide in front of the chair before finally lowering yourself onto it. You promptly cross your arms and legs, and turn your body away from him—basically making it very clear that you have every intention of passing the time in awkward, pregnant silence. 

Erwin, however, has other plans. 

He bites the bullet and starts. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“About what?” you ask. It comes out a little snappier than you intend, and you wince. 

“About _that_ ,” he replies. “About _this._ ” He moves his finger in a circle to gesture to all of you, closed body language and all. “I would like us to return to some degree of normalcy. It won’t do to remain resentful towards each other, considering we are still colleagues at the end of the day.”

You uncross your arms. Admittedly, harbouring all that anger and bitterness is exhausting and you are at the end of your road. It’s a surprise when you find yourself wanting for the same thing. “I agree.” 

Even Erwin seems shocked, and that annoys you. 

“Don’t look so surprised, old man. I do want to heal from all this, you know. Guess this is the first place to start.”

His gaze softens. “That’s right.” 

A beat of silence passes. 

“I—“

“So—“

You both start at the same time, cutting each other off. Erwin coughs awkwardly and you breathe a laugh. You exchange apologetic glances. 

“You go ahead,” Erwin urges you. 

“No, no, it wasn’t important. You go.”

He clears his throat, a little pink in the ears. What’s this? Is the great Erwin Smith _flustered?_

“I was just going to say that I think it would be good for us to be on good terms with each other. We don’t have to be friends, if that’s what you prefer…” He isn’t looking at you when he says, “But I will humbly offer you my opinion and say that I do want to remain friends with you. You may have been my wife but you were also one of my closest friends. I consider those two separate entities.” His gaze is sincere. “I lost my wife. I would hate to lose my friend, too.”

You feel your face heat up and offer a far less articulate, “Yeah.”

He pauses. “That’s all?”

“Wait, I need to think. I’m not as well-spoken as you.”

“Nonsense. You are plenty well-spoken.”

Your face is burning. After a while, you add, “Yeah. I’d like that. Erwin.”

He hides his start. That’s the first time you’ve called him anything other than Commander since breaking up. 

“I’m glad.” He calls you by your first name. This time, you don’t object. 

The silence is different now. Not comfortable by any stretch of the imagination, but not uncomfortable, either. Erwin opens his mouth to talk again before—

There’s a flurry of knocks on the door. You and Erwin both shoot up from your seats.

“State your name and purpose,” he calls.

“Hange here for her scheduled meeting!” She knocks again, even though she doesn’t need to. “Can I come in~?”

“You can try,” Erwin says, “but it’s loc—“

The door swings open to reveal Hange on the other side, sporting a wide grin. Her face lights up in delight when she sees you’re inside, too. “Wow! A two-for-one surprise!”

You are floored. “But that… the door was locked…”

“Locked?” Hange echoes, puzzled. She twists to look back at the door. “I must be a lockpicking wizard then, not a scientist!” She turns back around and wiggles her fingers at you before laughing heartily at her own joke. “But don’t mind me...“ A lecherous smile slithers onto her face. “Was I interrupting something~?”

The suggestive tone in her voice is not lost on you but you ignore it. “I was just leaving, actually.” You walk towards the door, turning around to salute to them both. “Good day, Commander. Captain.”

You slip out the door and it’s only when your footsteps can no longer be heard that Hange turns to Erwin with a smug, tell-all smile. 

Erwin’s eyes widen as he slowly clues in. “Let me guess. Y—“

“Yessiree!” Hange tosses something at him; Erwin catches it and looks down at his palm. In it is his master key. “Hope you don’t mind I eavesdropped, though. I had to time my entrance just right~”

“Thank you.” Erwin closes his hand around the key. He holds it to his heart before nodding once at Hange. “Thank you.”


	9. Chapter 9

_What a slow day_ , you think as you idly roll a pen around your desk. _Never thought I’d say that in the Corps, but here we are._

You jump when you hear thundering feet and frantic calls of your name erupt from outside your office door. _Spoke too soon, I guess._ You stand, alert and at attention, expecting a crisis. Eren then bursts through your door, followed by a sheepish Armin and a condoling Mikasa, her eyes apologizing in advance for Eren’s antics. You are a little puzzled, to say the least. 

“Squad Eren,” you greet cheekily, rounding your desk to meet them. “What can I do for you?” As you near them, you get a whiff of dust and mustiness, like mothballs, and notice they all have white kerchiefs tied around their necks.

“Please help!” Eren yells, raising his hands to you. They’re bivalved gently around something and you try to peer in between his fingers. 

“Eren, show her what you have,” Mikasa urges gently. “She can’t see through your fingers.”

“Ah, right!” Eren unfolds his hands to cup what he’s holding gently in his palms. You peer down into them and see—

“What’s all this?” you ask with a soft snort.

Eren casts you an incredulous look. “A _bird?_ ” He holds the still bird closer to his chest defensively. “I thought you were a vet! Have you never seen a bird before?”

You laugh. _This kid is something else._ “Eren, of course I know what a bird is.”

Eren looks relieved but still a little guarded. “Oh, good. But can you… treat birds? They’re a lot smaller than horses.”

Another laugh bubbles in your throat. “Yes, I can treat birds too. Let’s see what’s going on now.” 

You usher Eren to your desk, who places it gently in the middle. The words fly out of his mouth. “We were on cleaning duty when we suddenly heard a loud _BANG!_ Armin almost peed himself.”

“Did you have to leave that part in?” Armin laments.

Eren picks off without missing a beat. “It sounded like someone threw a rock at the window! I went to check what it was and then I found this little guy on the ground. It wasn’t moving and it worried me so I just had to bring it here.” He scratches the back of his neck, laughing bashfully. “Captain Levi is gonna kill us for leaving…”

You bring your oil lamp closer to inspect the bird, bending down until it is eye-level to you. You check for injury, turning it over and running your fingers lightly along its body, opening and closing its wings. You are quiet for a moment before giving Eren a comforting look. “Don’t worry, kiddo. Your little friend is alive, just stunned.”

“Thank Maria.” Eren deflates with a relieved sigh and Armin and Mikasa giggle, a little tired but just as entertained by Eren’s shenanigans. “So what now?” 

You press a finger to your lips. Moving swiftly, you extinguish the oil lamp before producing a towel from a drawer and covering the bird with it. “We don’t have to do anything for now,” you whisper. “A little quiet is all she needs.” 

You usher the trio out of your office, shutting the door behind you. “Go back to cleaning and come back in half an hour. Your little buddy should be up and about by then.”

Eren makes a noise of complaint. “Do you know who you’re asking us to deal with? Captain Levi will never let us leave again.”

“Tell him it’s the vet’s orders,” you say with a wink.

______________________________

You spend the half hour reading in your office, occasionally checking on the bird. You are starting to hear its little chirps; it’s a good sign. A half hour passes in a blur and the bird is now leaping lively underneath the towel. You hear voices float down the hallway outside and take that as your cue.

You step out of your office to meet them halfway, and are surprised to see another person amongst the party. He’s also decked out in cleaning attire and reeks of bleach. 

“You know Captain’s orders supersede vet’s orders, wench,” Levi bites out as he approaches with the trio in tow. 

“And yet here you are,” you say smugly. 

Levi scoffs but doesn’t deny you. “Where is the stupid thing? Eren hasn’t shut up about it all afternoon.”

You hold up the towel in your hands—in it, the bird wriggles and chirps. Eren makes a triumphant sound. “Hey! It’s awake!”

“Sure is,” you say with a grin. “Let’s go release her.”

You all exit the building, happy to be outside—the kids especially are, after a day cooped up inside cleaning. It's sunset now, everything cast in rich hues of orange and purple. You lead your little party up a small hill, nothing above you except endless sky. 

“Care to do the honours, Eren?” you ask.

He nods so quickly and vigorously it scares you a little. “Ooh careful son, you might pull something,” you cluck as you hand him the bird. It twitters brightly, body thrumming with life. Eren takes it into his hands and strokes it on the head once with a calloused thumb. 

“Time to go home, friend,” he says. He turns towards the setting sun and thrusts his arms out with a flourish. The little brown bird takes to the air and flaps its wings, reminiscent of the very symbol emblazoned on your jackets. It dips slightly before gaining altitude and then takes off. You all watch in wonder until it is nothing but a dot of black against orange, then a speck, then out of sight. The wind rises, tousling your hair. It’s a warm, contemplative moment before—

“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Levi remarks dryly. 

You don’t think so. It feels uplifting, like new hope. You know everyone else feels the same way.


	10. Chapter 10

“This will be our last formal gathering before the holidays,” Erwin announces to the courtyard. “Our headquarters will remain open throughout the break so you will have the choice to stay on the premises or return home to your families. Regardless of where you choose to spend your holiday, make sure to be back here at 8am sharp on January 3rd.”

There are a few displeased groans at the mention of 8am but no one actually objects; it would seem most are too excited to be unleashed for the break.

“That is all. On behalf of the Survey Corps, Merry Christmas and happy holidays.”

Every single person in the room salutes then breaks off into excited chatter, quickly filing out of the courtyard.

Your eyes scan the crowd, heart glowing. Though it was cold outside, you felt warm inside. It seemed like everyone was looking forward to their much-needed break. You almost laugh when you spot Levi across the way—even _he_ was a little less irate than usual and pinned a festive sprig of holly onto his lapel (courtesy of Hange, no doubt).

You breathe in deep as you stretch, turning to address your vets. “You heard the man,” you smile while jerking a thumb in Erwin’s general direction. “Get outta here. I’ll see you on January 3rd.”

Your vets bid you fond farewells and holiday greetings as they, too, file out of the courtyard. They chatter excitedly amongst themselves, talking about all sorts of things—plans, gifts, what foods they hope to see at their Christmas banquets. You could feel the silly, wide smile stretch across your face. You couldn’t help it! You love the holidays.

… Even though this is the first time in five years you’d celebrate Christmas without Erwin. For the first time since getting married five years ago, you would not be spending Christmas at HQ.

You shake your head. No point in making yourself sad now. At your mother’s insistence, you would be going home to Krolva to be with your family. _Well,_ you stop to think, _my other family._ The courtyard is practically empty now so it doesn’t take long to find Levi, Hange, Mike, and Nanaba. The veterans usually stayed behind and it looks like this year was no different. _These guys are my family, too._

Hange senses your gaze and waves animatedly. “Hey!” she shouts, even though you’re not that far away. Levi flinches at the volume of her voice and shoves her shoulder.

“Pipe down, four-eyes. You’re making my fucking ears bleed.”

She ignores him. “You staying this year?”

“No, actually!” you reply. “I’m going home.”

Hange blinks before smiling in understanding. “Aww okay. Well, we’ll miss you! And we’ll save you a seat in case you change your mind.”

“Thanks, Hanj!” you call back, waving. “Happy holidays!”

Hange cups her hands around her mouth and yells, “HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO YOU, TOO!”

Levi snarls at her but raises a hand to you in a small wave. You nod at him.

You make your way towards the exit but not before a large, warm hand settles on your shoulder. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is but you do anyway.

“Erwin.”

“Happy holidays,” he says softly.

“Thanks,” you say in return. “Happy holidays.”

His hand leaves your shoulder and you continue out the archway, the jovial voices of your family echoing behind you.


	11. Chapter 11

A gaggle of new recruits bumbles Erwin’s way. They are so engrossed in their conversation that they don’t notice Erwin walking towards them, and so it’s not hard to catch wind of your name peppered in their conversation. Erwin’s eyes widen when he realizes they’re talking about _you._

“She’s _so_ nice, dude,” one of them says with an impassioned wave of his arm. “So funny and sweet—“

“You’re so lucky you got assigned stable duty,” another chimes in. “You get to stare at her all day long.”

“Don’t remind me. She has to bend over to examine the horseshoes, right, and when I say it’s a nice view, it’s a _nice_ —"

The boys still haven’t noticed him, and that's when Erwin clears his throat to get their attention. The boys clam up immediately. They turn to appraise their intruder and when they realize it’s Commander Erwin Smith, they pale and snap into imperfect, but rigid, salutes.

“Commander Smith, sir!”

Erwin strides up to them and examines each one. They’re one of the newest recruits, still naïve and wet behind the ears. And also in no position to be talking about his ex-wife like that.

“Need I remind you boys that fraternizing with your superiors is strictly forbidden?” Erwin asks sternly.

The boys gulp, shaking their heads furiously. “No, sir!” they say in unison.

“And need I also remind you that speaking about your superiors, or any fellow colleague in that way, is a warrant for punishment?”

“No, sir!”

“I do hope I am understood. I would hate to ask Captain Levi to take care of correcting your errant behaviour.”

If the boys were pale before, they completely _blanch_ at the mention of the (in)famous tiny terror captain.

“W-We understand, sir!”

Erwin scrutinizes them for a moment longer before saying, “At ease. You are dismissed.”

The boys take off down the hallway as quickly as they can without running. Erwin’s scowl follows them until they disappear around the corner. He exhales then, trying to temper his unexpected and unexplainable anger. It isn’t like the boys _did_ anything wrong (there was no rule that said you couldn’t _look_ at your superior officers, appreciatively or otherwise), and Erwin out of all people knows that you are very attractive (so he agreed with everything they said). And yet, he had gotten so angry without really knowing why. Even if it wasn’t anger—even if it was jealousy, territoriality, whatever—it didn’t matter. He doesn’t have the right to feel this way; not anymore.

He presses fingers into his eyes before running his hand down his face. His own words echo in his mind: _“Need I remind you boys that fraternizing with your superiors is strictly forbidden?”_

He was just as guilty as you in that respect because the other way around is just as forbidden; superior officers are equally barred from fraternizing with their subordinates. Needless to say, both of you blatantly disregarded that rule.

But in Erwin’s defence, it wasn’t a forbidden circumstance when he’d started dating you—you two were laterally the same rank, back then. He was a captain, and you were a veterinarian. He’d just happened to get promoted higher and faster than you after that.

Erwin does sometimes wonder what life would be like if you had both followed the rules and called it off as soon as he was promoted. _Probably less painful,_ he thinks as he continues on his way, _but also not nearly as fun._


	12. Chapter 12

It is late in the evening now. Erwin and Nile are sitting across each other, separated by a low coffee table. Once covered in documents and maps, the table is now occupied with a half-empty wine bottle and two wine glasses. Talks of business faded away in favour of small talk and general pleasantries.

“How’s Marie?” Erwin asks as he takes a sip of wine. Nile kicks an ankle over his knee with a throaty sigh.

“She’s great,” Nile replies with a warm, faraway smile. “We’re trying for another kid. Hoping for a son this time, but with our luck, it’ll probably be another girl.”

Erwin’s eyes widen then light up at the news. “That’s wonderful. I’m happy for you, Nile.”

Nile smiles in thanks and wets his lips with wine. “And your missus?” 

Erwin shakes his head and reaches towards the coffee table to pour himself another glass. “My missus no more.”

Nile is visibly shocked. He didn’t notice the lack of a ring before, but now Erwin’s bare ring finger is glaringly obvious. He feels rotten for asking. “Damn, really? I’m… sorry to hear that, Erwin.”

Erwin promptly raises his glass to his mouth and tips his head back to drain it. The searing warmth dulls the ache in his chest. He sighs. “Don’t be. It was only a matter of time for someone like me.”

Nile gives the man opposite him a sympathetic look; it looks frustratingly like pity. “Don’t say that. You’re… a good man, Erwin.”

 _Far from it,_ Erwin thinks. _I’m the worst there is._ But he keeps that to himself.

A lifetime ago, Erwin fell for Marie. He decided not to pursue her because he didn’t know when he’d die. Every day is a gamble in the Corps, and he couldn’t hurt Marie like that. It would be selfish of him to put Marie in that situation just because he fancied her.

He wonders, then, why he didn’t spare you the same consideration.


	13. Chapter 13

You never did care much for nicknames. 

You called Hange “Hanj” on occasion, which wasn’t so much a nickname as it was an abbreviation—a mere contraction of two syllables into one, for the sake of efficiency. Hange still treasured it like a nickname though, which you thought was sweet.

Levi didn’t get any special denotation from you. He was more than fine with that.

You never called Erwin anything other than “Erwin” of your own volition. Calling him pet names was  _ especially _ out of the question; “baby” and “honey” did nothing but make your skin crawl, and you only called him by his titles during sex because he asked (read: demanded) for it. But during the highs of your marriage, when you were happy and so full and drunk on love, you’d sometimes call him “Winnie.”


	14. Chapter 14

The little bell on the door rings as Erwin steps into the clinic and looks around for the chief medic, Muller. The young brunette is nowhere to be seen, but he does see a shadow moving behind the translucent curtain bisecting the room—that’s probably him.

The voice that calls out to him from behind the curtain is, indeed, Muller’s. “Please have a seat in one of the chairs there and I’ll be with you shortly,” he says. “I’m just with a patient at the moment."

Erwin sits in one of the waiting chairs, crossing his legs and lacing his fingers in his lap. He didn’t mind waiting as his injury wasn’t urgent; he just needed a bandage change for a cut on his arm that he got from training. He examines the clinic as he waits. The supply cabinet is looking a little more empty than he’d like. He makes a mental note to order more supplies later.

“Ow!” a voice cries out from the other side of the curtain.

Erwin’s eyes widen as his blood runs cold. Your voice. That was your voice. His mind races with terrible thoughts; you’re on the other side, you’re in pain, you’re injured—

“Ah, sorry,” Muller says. “Pinched you, did I?”

“'Ya think?” you chide with a groan. “The painkillers aren’t working yet.”

“Just a few more stitches and we’ll be all set. Just sit tight.”

Erwin raises his eyebrows, noting the casual tone of voice the chief medic used with you and vice versa. It made sense the more he thought about it, however. You were chief veterinarian and Muller was chief medic. You were the heads of the two Corps support teams, so you would expectedly collaborate a lot. You probably collaborate more with each other than even with Erwin himself, he wagers.

Why did that make him feel so... betrayed?

It’s silly, he knows, to feel that way. And yet, he couldn't help the feeling as it spread like ice in his chest. Furthermore, you had gotten injured enough to need stitches? Why didn’t he know about that?

A few minutes later, there is the sound of shuffling and you emerge from the other side of the curtain. Your left eye is swollen shut and there is a row of black stitches running on your forehead above it. It looks like it would’ve bled a lot.

Seeing Erwin sitting in the waiting chair startles you. “Oh.” You blink, suddenly remembering your formalities, and snap into a perfect salute. “Commander Smith, sir.”

He stands wordlessly and approaches you. “You didn’t tell me you got hurt.”

You give him an incredulous look. Why was he being so familiar? Didn’t he know Muller was nearby? You frown. “I don’t have to tell you everything, you know,” you say softly.

At that moment, Muller emerges from behind the curtain. He raises an inquisitive brow at you both, but doesn’t say anything.

“It’s always good to know the status of my constituents,” Erwin replies evenly.

The formality in Muller’s voice returns when he addresses Erwin. “She was cut by some shrapnel from a detonated gas canister. But not to worry, sir. It was long and deep, but not grave. Plenty of sleep and antibiotics will take care of it just fine.” Muller pats you on the shoulder. “Your Chief Vet will push through.”

Erwin’s striking blue eyes flit to Muller once then meet yours again. He wants to say something along the lines of, _“I know, but I still worry about you,”_ but the medic's presence makes him bite his tongue.

“That’s right,” you nod, slipping out from between the two men. “No cause for alarm, sir.” You pause in the doorway. “Good afternoon, gentlemen.” Then, you are gone.


	15. Chapter 15

“I just don’t… understand… why _I_ need to train,” you manage between gasps, hunched over and hands resting on your knees. Why did the ODM gear have to be so damn _heavy?_

From above, Erwin lands beside you, gas canisters hissing as the valves shut. He clicks his tongue as he looks down at you, betraying no sign of fatigue other than the light sheen of sweat on his forehead. He says your name in a gently scolding tone. “Just because you aren’t a soldier anymore doesn’t mean you can get complacent.” He bends down to your level, which is a much farther distance for him; he’s nearly squatting now. “Support should also know how to fight, in case of emergency.” 

“Something tells me… you just… like watching me suffer, you ass.” You shove him lightly in the shoulder, shifting his balance. 

He tips back onto the ground with a laugh and looks up at you with a cheeky grin. “Maybe a little of that, too.”


	16. Chapter 16

Erwin Smith is a dangerous man, but not in the way most expect. While he is a menace with the ODM gear, and a deadly shot with a pistol, these things don’t make him dangerous. 

No, the danger of Erwin Smith is that he will do anything to get his way. 

One could say he is a utilitarian. He doesn’t see people as _people_. He sees them more as chess pieces, or strings waiting to be pulled. Disposable aids to his agenda. Just means to his end.

It doesn’t matter who he has to pull down, step over, or trample in order to achieve his goals.

Unfortunately, one of those people was his wife.


	17. Chapter 17

The bell above your door rings. The sound startles you out of sleep so badly you nearly fall out of bed. You sit up with a yelp, then rub the sleep out of your bleary eyes.

The bell is linked directly to the stable, and it rings only when you are needed. One of the mares is heavily pregnant and due any day now, so the bell could only mean one thing—the mare was going into labour. The attending vets were more than capable of overseeing a birth on their own, but it was the first one of the year and you wanted to be there for the delivery.

You dress in a hurry, not bothering with your ODM gear straps, and shimmy into your jacket before swinging your green cloak over your shoulders. You dash out of your room and through HQ, taking care to keep your steps light as it is still very early in the morning. You finally make it outside and the cool spring morning air washes over you. The sun just peeks out from over the horizon, kissing the earth good morning. 

What a beautiful day for a birth. 

You rush into the stable and see the attending vets already crowded around the mare’s box stall. 

Torres, the Mike squad veterinarian, is the first to greet you. “Mornin’.” 

“Morning,” you say in return. Your eyes slide up to the bay mare, who is already laying on her side in a bed of hay. “Looks like I’m just in time.” The mare shuffles to rest her head against the wall. Her breathing becomes laboured and her swollen abdomen pulses with contractions. You roll up your sleeves. “It’s go time, folks.”

______________________________

You emerge from the barn with a triumphant smile. The birth went smoothly and the mare delivered a happy, healthy foal. You leave the rest of the work to the attending vets; today is _still_ your day off, after all.

You decide that it would be a nice day to take Ignia for a ride so you head towards her pasture. Your flaxen chestnut mare whinnies as you come into view, pacing towards the fence and bowing her head. You meet her halfway and stroke her along the snout, pressing a kiss to the middle of it. “Hey, pretty lady,” you greet. She whickers in response. 

You produce a crabapple from your jacket pocket and present it to her. “Sorry, girl. They were all out of sugar cubes.” Ignia doesn’t seem to mind, taking the fruit into her mouth with a satisfied huff. You smile. “Let’s go for a ride. What do you say?” The sparkle in her eye as she chews suggests to you that she agrees.

You saddle her up and lead her out of her pasture by her reins. She follows obediently, keeping stride with you. Once you’re out of the stable, you mount her and coax her into a steady trot.

The sun is a little higher in the sky now, but the chill of the air clings to your skin still. You can see your breath as you chuff in time with Ignia’s strides. 

Just then, you hear the clopping of another set of hooves rapidly approach you. You hope they just pass you, looking forward to a peaceful morning ride by yourself, but the goddesses apparently had other plans for you because a voice behind you calls out, “You’re up early.” 

You turn your head to see a rider astride a white horse, rapidly drawing near. There’s only one white horse in the entire troop, and that’s Erwin’s stallion, Champion. You eye him before pulling slightly on Ignia’s reins; she slows at your command just as Erwin and Champion march up to you.

“And you’re up… at your regular hour,” you remark in return.

Erwin laughs once, like a bark. “You’re correct.” He opens his mouth again, and you know he’s about to ask why you’re up so early, so you beat him to it.

“A foal was born today,” you tell him. “I wanted to be there for the birth.”

“Ah. I see,” Erwin replies thoughtfully. “On the first day of spring. How poetic. It must be an auspicious sign.”

You nod. “Let’s hope so.”

Budding flowers line the riding trail, small dots of pastel pinks and yellows smattering the green. You and Erwin settle into a comfortable silence, satisfied with wordlessly admiring the scenery.

You continue on for a few minutes. Erwin is wearing a neutral but pleased expression, but you’re wearing an irked frown. You would’ve liked the morning to yourself but now _apparently_ had to share it with your ex-husband because it didn’t look like he was intending on riding ahead or falling back any time soon. 

“Did you… need to talk to me about anything?” you ask after some time. 

Erwin looks at you from the corner of his eye. “I just want to spend some time with my friend. Is there anything wrong with that?”

You huff; it’s no use trying to get a straight answer out of Erwin. Also, was the second part of his answer necessary? Why did he always have to make you feel so guilty all the time?

“No, I guess not.”

He says your name before snorting in amused exasperation at your contrite expression. “I’m teasing you.” 

_Really?_ you think to yourself. _Because it feels like you’re scolding me._

He senses the brooding cloud around you and tries to assuage you. “Now what’s that look for? I always go on morning rides. I truly wasn’t expecting to run into you,” he says with a light laugh, gaze softening. “But I’m glad I did.”

Your head snaps forward as you grip Ignia’s reins, telling yourself that the tingle in your cheeks is from the cold and _nothing else_. The two of you soldier on before coming up to a vantage point. The trail is now slightly raised from the land and allows you to see HQ, as well as the surrounding fields. The sun tints the scene in a pale yellow light, droplets of morning dew catching it and reflecting it back, shimmering like crystals. In the forests behind you, birds twitter and chirp. It’s… nice. Peaceful. Such moments of serenity are so rare and meant to be treasured. As such, you take a mental picture and commit it to long-term memory. Yes, Erwin beside you and all. 

“It’s beautiful,” Erwin remarks, taking in the sight. 

“It is,” you can’t help but agree. “I wish moments like this would last forever.” 

Your words linger in the air. 

“But they won’t,” Erwin says sombrely. “Spring will turn into summer, and summer into fall, and fall into winter, and so on.” You give him a curious look. He continues. “You know, there exists an ancient concept called _mono no aware_.” The words sound foreign in your ears—what language is that? “Literally translated, it refers to ‘the pathos of things.’ The melancholic appreciation of the transience of existence. The wistfulness of things passing and a longer, deeper sadness at this being the reality of life.” His eyes come away from the scene before you to settle in the space between your horses. “The impermanence of things.” 

_Of us._

“So in layman’s terms…” you posit, a little dumbfounded by Erwin’s sudden philosophical rambling, “things change. Seasons change. People change. We are born, we live, and then we die, and we can’t do anything about it because that’s just the way existence is.”

“Yes.” Erwin’s expression is unreadable. “That’s right.”

You close your eyes and frown. “... Well, that’s depressing.” At your words, the contemplative mood dissipates. You click your tongue and Ignia kicks into a trot, continuing down the trail.

Erwin snickers, following suit. “In my defence, you know I’m not a very exuberant person.”


	18. Chapter 18

As a child, you were obsessed with fairytales and bedtime stories. 

You had many books, but _Sleeping Beauty_ was by far your favourite. You had a puppy love crush on Prince Charming, and loved one illustration of him in particular.

The illustration depicted Prince Charming as a handsome young man with blond hair and blue eyes. He was fixed in a valiant pose, red cape billowing behind him in an unseen wind as he held his sword to the sky; his mouth dropped open in a shout as he rode towards a dragon, on a white steed.

You could—and _would_ —stare at this picture for hours on end, sighing dreamily and wishing for your own prince. It got so bad that your mother started to worry. Your father reassured her, telling her that it was no cause for concern; that you would eventually grow out of it.

Little did you know that, years later, you would get exactly what you had wished for.


End file.
